RHYMES  AND  JINGLES 


BY 


WILLIAM  WALLACE  BASS 

THE  GRAND  CANYON  GUIDE 


ARROYO    GUILD    PRESS 
LOS    ANGELES 


RHYMES  and  JINGLES 


" 


BY 


a/ 


W.  W.  BASS 


UNIVERSITY 


OF 


ARROYO    GUILD    PRESS 

LOS    ANGELES 

1909 


o  ,U^ 

I  1  T  '        ' 

NOW  IN  THE  PRESS 


It  is  with  pleasure  I  announce  to  my  friends  the  speedy  completion 
of  a  book  upon  which  I  have  labored,  off  and  on,  for  some  years, 
in  which  I  shall  give  some  of  my  early  experiences  in  Arizona  in 
pioneer  days.  Among  the  chapters  will  be  one  that  relates  the  account 
of  the  first  dance  hall  in  Williams,  where  I  saw  one  man  nearly  killed 
and  then  came  near  to  being  lynched.  Another  will  tell  of  the  great 
fight  put  up  to  rob  a  poor  woman  and  her  children  of  the  Williams 
Town  Site,  of  my  participation  in  it,  my  arrest  on  a  trumped-up 
charge,  in  order  to  get  me  out  of  the  way,  and  my  speedy  release.  My 
early  explorations  of  the  Grand  and  Havasu  Canyons  will  be  told, 
with  the  thrilling  story  of  how  I  lost  my  traveling  companion,  Mc- 
Kinny,  and  when  I  returned  to  Williams  to  organize  a  search  party, 
they  came  near  lynching  me,  on  suspicion  that  he  had  been  murdered. 
The  exciting  search  for  McKinny,  and  the  way  he  was  found,  make 
interesting  reading.  A  full  chapter  will  also  be  given  on  my  experi 
ences  with  the  Havasupai  Indians ;  my  fight  to  get  them  a  school  and 
a  farmer,  their  ingratitude  and  perversion  by  the  whites.  I  shall  also 
give  my  reasons  for  differing  from  the  accepted  geological  theories 
of  the  formation  of  the  Grand  Canyon  as  propounded  by  Newberry, 
Button  and  Powell,  and  give  what  I  conceive  to  be  the  only  rational 
and  tenable  theory  that  accounts  for  all  the  visible  facts. 

Altogether  it  will  make  a  readable  book,  and  I  shall  be  glad  to 
receive  advance  orders  for  it.  It  will  be  out  before  the  New  Year. 

Price  in  heavy  paper  cover,  $1.00.     In  cloth,  $1.50. 

W.  W.  BASS. 
Grand  Canyon,  Arizona,  October,  1909. 


(2) 


Y  ] 

BASS 


By  Edward   Robeson   Taylor,   Mayor   of   San   Francisco,   California. 


Do  you  know  Bass — Bass  of  the  mighty  canyon 
That  grandly  cleaves  fair  Arizona's  breast, 

The  man  who  there  has  kept  a  famous  ferry, 
As  many  a  lonely  traveler  can  attest? 

Well,  if  you  don't,  it  makes  my  wonder  grow, 

For  he's  a  man  well  worth  your  while  to  know. 

No  one  could  doubt  that  he  would  meet  undaunted 
All  dangers  that  would  dare  to  cross  his  way, 

With  that  strong  jaw,  firm  lip,  determined  bearing, 
And  straight-outlooking  eye  of  glittering  gray, 

That  to  bravado  surely  is  unknown, 

But  which  must  nurse  a  lightning  of  its  own. 


No  counterfeited  man,  you'd  quickly  hazard, 

When  once  you've  grasped  him  with  a  gripping  feel: 

A  man  who  has  been  lying  close  to  Nature 
Till  he  has  got  the  impress  of  her  seal; 

A  man  who  could  unaided  onward  bear 

Against  the  veriest  devils  of  despair. 


But  he's  not  quiet;  no,  such  life  is  in  him, 

You  fancy  nought  could  blind  him  e'en  in  sleep; 

His  utmost  being  seems  to  be  o'erbrimming 
With  unremitting  energies  that  sweep 

Him  ceaseless  on,  with  rest  for  him  no  more 

Than  for  the  Colorado  at  his  door. 


190994 


In  thrilling  tones  he'll  tell  you  how  the  canyon 
By  geologic  magic  has  been  made, 

Therein  reciting  all  the  various  blunders 
That  scientists  around  it  have  arrayed, 

And  yet  disclaiming  all  the  time  that  he 

Is  blest  of  learning  in  geology. 


In  truth,  its  rocks  have  been  to  him  as  brothers 
In  closest  bond  for  now  this  many  a  year, 

And  he  to  their  innumerous,  age-long  voices 
Has  bent  an  eagerly  attentive  ear, 

Until  he  confidently  dares  to  feel 

They  would  no  secret  from  his  quest  conceal. 


What  time  on  time  this  man  has  seen  the  splendor 
Of  sun,  and  moon,  and  star,  upon  them  beam, 

How  oft  has  stood  in  silent,  awesome  wonder 

As  roared  full-mouthed  their  mighty-rushing  stream! 

No  other  heart  so  closely  beats  to  theirs, 

No  other  breast  so  much  their  mystery  shares. 


And  every  page  that  lovers  of  their  glories 
Have  set  at  large  is  his  and  safely  stored, 

Accounting  these  of  all  his  earthly  treasures 
The  one  supreme,  inestimable  hoard, 

Which,  like  a  miser,  he  looks  o'er  and  o'er, 

Still  always  wishing  it  were  more  and  more. 


And  yet,  depending  not  on  printed  pages, 
Nor  word  of  others  for  his  gathered  lore, 

But  rather  on  his  own  eye  sharply  searching 
The  canyon's  mystery  to  the  very  core, 

Still  not  despising  e'en  the  smallest  thing 

That  can  to  him  some  crumb  of  knowledge  bring. 


(4) 


He  views  the  canyon  as  a  thing  that's  living, 
Filled  with  its  own  all  silent-moving  blood, 

No  less  than  are  its  furred  and  feathered  creatures, 
Nor   than   its   roaring,   wonder   working   flood; — 

And  truth,  when  brimmed  with  light's  empurpling  wine, 

Who  then  can  doubt  it  bears  a  life  divine? 


Or  when  mysterious  dawn  creeps  o'er  the  desert, 
To  fold  the  canyon  in  her  lovely  arms, 

And  all  its  palaces,  and  domes,  and  towers, 
Tremble  with  seeming  new-created  charms, 

While  "Navaho,"*  by  her  in  passing  kissed, 

Serenely  glows  a  flawless   amethyst. 


All  this  he  talks  of,  and  of  Arizona, 

In  stream  that  bears  all  opposition   down, 

For  when  once  fairly  started  nothing  stops  him — 
Opposing  statement,  argument  or  frown. 

Like  his  own  river  he  pursues  his  way, 

With  nothing  strong  enough  to  bid  him  stay. 


And  verse  of  his  he  pours  in  ceaseless  torrents 
From  out  the  foaming  fountains  of  his  heart, 

Where  flash  some  sparkling  gems,  though  somewhat  lacking 
In  highest  finish  of  poetic  art — 

Poet  unique,  who  can  at  call  rehearse 

The  multitudinous  treasures  of  his  verse! 


You  then  might  fancy  him  some  bard  archaic 
Before  his  auditors  in  rapt  array, 

Striking  his  harp  with  passion-kindled  fingers, 
As  burst  ecstatic  his  triumphant  lay, 

While  all  the  welkin  loud  resounding  rang 

When  higher  still  entrancingly  he  sang. 


*This  refers  to  the  beautiful  Navaho  Mountain  that   swims  in  the  purple 
haze  about  two  hundred  miles  away. 

(5) 


And  he  has  bound  himself  unto  the  desert, 

Till  she  has  giv'n  him  secrets  of  her  own- 
Plants  that  are  blest  with  magic  power  of  healing 

Some  hurt  or  malady  to  mortals  known; 
And  these,  as  by  the  desert's  own  command, 
He  uses  oft  with  deft  and  generous  hand. 

Upon  the  desert's  edge,  on  an  oasis 

Made  verdurous  by  the  labor  of  his  hand, 

His  home  now  blooms,  where  his  beloved  canyon 
Stretches  far  on  magnificently   grand, 

And  which,  with  countless  ages  on  its  back, 

Has   carved   its   long,   incomparable   track. 


And  there  he'll  ferry  you  across  the  river 

As  safe  as  though  he  led  you  o'er  the  land, 

Reciting  all  its  various  moods  and  humors 
The  flood  has  kindly  let  him  understand, 

Till  hospitality  throws  wide  her  doors, 

And  new  possessions  evermore  are  yours. 

These  men  of  desert,  forest,  stream  and  mountain, 
How  large  they  loom  before  us  as  we  gaze! — 

Like  those  great  things  to  them  as  friends  familiar, 
Or  like  the  stars  which  there  all  newly  blaze; 

And  we  that  live  in  cities  as  we  must, 

Oft  lean  on  them  with  simple,  childlike  trust. 


Muse,  fold  thy  wings;   for  Bass,  like  the  Grand  Canyon 
Is  larger  than  thy  best  can  meetly  sing; 

Thou  canst  no  more  than  modestly  adventure 
These  insufficient  leaves  of  pay  to  bring, 

And  thus  in  part  discharge  the  debt  I  owe, 

For  Bass,  you  see,  is  worth  our  while  to  know. 

June,  1904. 


(6) 


TO  THE  READER: 


I  trust  it  is  not  necessary  for  me  to  assure  the  reader  I  am  neither  so  fool 
ish  nor  presumptious  as  to  assume  that  my  crude  and  simple  rhymes  are  worthy 
any  serious  attention  as  poems.  An  almost  self-educated  boy,  sent  into  life 
early  to  earn  his  own  living,  who,  for  thirty  years  has  been  daily  grappling 
with  the  pioneer  and  primitive  problems  in  somewhat  pioneer  Arizona,  can 
scarcely  be  expected  to  understand  and  apply  the  laws  of  prosody  with  pro 
fessional  skill.  My  jingles  have  given  pleasure  to  my  guests  around  my  camp- 
fires  and  merely  to  extend  the  sphere  of  that  jolly  and  unique  experience  I 
have  presumed  to  insert  them  in  these  unpretentious  pages. 

WILLIAM    WALLACE    BASS 

Bass    Camp,    Grand    Canyon,    Arizona 
October,    19O9 


(7) 


CONTENTS 


Answers 

Arizona     -  "    '" 

Arizona  Bachelor,  The  18 

Come  to  Bass  Camp       -  -   35 

Frozen  Potatoes  28 
Grand  Canyon,  The 

Grand  Canyon  (The)  as  a  Place  to  Visit  -  37 

Grand  Canyon  (The),   How' Was' Jt  Formed                  -  40 

Law  Upon  His  Brain  31 

Miner's  Song,  The  -    15 

Plea  For  the  Indians,  A  14 

Questions  -  -12 

Sanford,  Judge,  Ode  to  33 

Statehood  Bill,  The  -  24 

Statehood  Bill,  The   -  25 

Wonders  of  the  World,  The  -  21 
Wonders  of  the  World  (The)  and  the  Grand  Canyon,    1  1 


(8) 


THE  GRAND  CANYON 


These  lines  are  descriptive  of  the  ride  by  stage  from  Williams  to  the  Canyon. 


Will  you  join  me,  gentle  reader, 

For  a  roam  through  wonderland? 
I  will  take  you  to  a  Canyon, 

Long,  and  wide,  and  deep,  and  grand. 
We  will  journey  through  the  valleys, 

And  across  the  sandy  plain, 
To  commune  with  wondrous  Nature, 

Seeking  to  her  works  explain. 


Far  away  you  see  the  grandeur; 

Towering  walls  appear  to  view; 
What  you  see  there,  gentle  reader, 

Is  a  mountain  rent  in  two: 
In  this  valley,  where  we  linger, 

Once  a  lake,  whose  restless  swell 
Washed  the  crests  of  yonder  mountain, 

Countless  ages,  none  can  tell. 


At  your  feet  a  human  dwelling — 

See  its  crumbled  walls  today, 
Stone  and  mortar  plainly  telling 

Of  a  race  long  passed  away. 
Who  they  were  and  what  their  calling, 

Not  even  one  is  left  to  tell; 
Earthquake  ravages  appalling, 

Seething  death,  their  lot  befell. 


(9) 


To  your  right  the  snow-capped  'Friscos, 

Towering  high  'mid  azure  blue, 
Down  its  slopes  and  through  the  valley, 

Lava   courses,  plainly  view. 
To  your  left  and  far  behind  you, 

Other  mountains  great  and  small; 
Heaps  of  ashes,  core,  and  cinders — 

Dead  volcanoes!  so  say  all. 


Now  we've  reached  the  "Colorado"; 

On  its  rocky  walls  we  stand, 
Gazing  down  in  speechless  wonder, 

Never  was  a  sight  so  grand. 
Here  a  terrace,  there  a  steeple, 

Gilded  spires  of  heights  unknown, 
Towering  mountains,  raging  river, 

All  within  these  walls  of  stone. 


Ever  changing,  never  ceasing, 

Lights  and  shadows,  blending  hues, 
Granite,  marble,  lime,  and  sandstone, 

Forming  panoramic  views. 
Here  we  find  in  grand  succession, 

Each  formation,  old  and  new, 
Gracious  book  of  information 

Nature  has  prepared  for  you. 


What  a  field  for  art  and  science, 

Poet,  painter — every  mind, 
In  this  wondrous  work  of  Nature 

Fitting  food  will  surely  find. 
Let  us  estimate  its  vastness, 

What  its  age,  and  how  'twas  made, 
Join  us,  ye  who  count  the  ages, 

One  and  all  pray  lend  your  aid. 

(10) 


THE  WONDERS  OF  THE  WORLD 
AND  THE  GRAND  CANYON 


Babylon's  walls  and  hanging  gardens, 

Egypt's  pyramids  as  well, 
The  mausoleum  of  Artemisia, 

Of  which  the  ancient  writers  tell; 


Daina's  Temple,  Rhodes'  Colossus, 
The  Pharos  of  Alexandria,  too, 

Jupiter's   Olympian   statue, 
In  the  old  world  you  may  view. 


These  were  called  "The  Seven  Wonders,' 
Works  of  art  by  human  hands, 

Endless  books  of  information, 
Histories   of   foreign  lands. 


Cross  the  ocean,  journey  westward, 
Hear  Niagara's  ceaseless  roar, 

Scale  the  peaks  of  Colorado, 
See  the  hissing  geysers  soar. 


View  the  Shoshone  and  the  mammoths — 
Trees  that  stand  while  Nations  fall, 

But  our  great  and  boundless  Canyon 
Is  the  grandest  of  them  all. 


(ID 


QUESTIONS 


Oh!  where  did  you  come  from,  you  dirty  red  thing, 

Born  in  the  mountains  of  many  a  spring 

Whose  clear  crystal  waters  you  claimed  as  your  own, 

Mixed  them  with  mud  and  lashed  them  to  foam? 

First  is  the  "Green,"  and  next  the  "Grand," 

But   now   Colorado,  because   of  your   sand, 

Your  silt  and  your  mud;  and  now  they  do  say, 

That  out  of  pure  spite  you  hid  you  away 

In  this  unearthly,  inaccessible  place, 

So  that  no  man  could  find  you,  or  look  into  your  face, 

Except  it  might  be  as  he  stood  on  your  brink, 

A  half-league  above  you  and  died  for  a  drink. 

But  now  that  I've  met  you,  come,  let  us  be  friends, 

For  some  of  your  meanness  you  may  make  amends. 

Come,  tell  me,  how  first  you  came  to  this  place? 

Have  you  always  been  rushing  along  at  this  pace? 

Did  you  rasp  out  this  chasm  in  old  Mother  Earth? 

Or  was  she  split  open  the  day  of  your  birth? 

Was  there  ever  a  time  in  ages  long  past 

When  over  her  surface  you  graciously  cast 

Your  life-giving  fluid  to  clothe  her  in  green? 

I  don't  like  to  think  you  were  always  so  mean. 

Just  think  of  the  friends  you  would  have  if  you  could; 

And  I'm  half  inclined  to  believe  that  you  would 

Spread  out  through  these  valleys  in  the  broad  light  of  day. 

Now,  mad  rushing  River,  come,  what  do  you  say? 


(12) 


ANSWERS 


Well  now,  my  dear  boy,  if  you  won't  say  any  more, 

I'll  try  for  one  moment  to  shut  off  my  roar, 

And  see  if  I  cannot  hunt  up  the  page; 

Yes,  now  I  have  found  it,  the  Tertiary  Age! 

In  the  record  I  keep  of  passing  events, 

Since  first  I  set  out  for  the  mysterious  hence, 

'Twas  then  I  was  born,  my  Father,  the  Lake 

His  afternoon  nap  was  preparing  to  take, 

His  surface  was  smooth,  and  transparent  as  glass, 

For  hundreds  of  miles — it's  the  truth,  Mr.  Bass. 

The  lesson  I've  learned  from  my  Mother,  the  Earth, 

In  whose  bosom  I've  nestled  since  the  day  of  my  birth. 

Away  down  in  her  bowels,  in  the  Igneous  veins 

She  had  an  attack  of  griping  and  pains; 

A  trembling  sensation,  and  then  a  great  crash 

That  formed  the  Grand  Canyon — that  wondrous  gash! 

The  fact  is  apparent  that  as  she  grew  old 

Her  skin  grew  thick  as  her  body  grew  cold, 

A  constant  contraction  made  the  inside  too  small. 

The  outside  was  folded,  my  dear  boy— that's  all. 


The   unsatisfactory   explanations   of   Powell,    Dutton   and   other    geologists 
must  serve  as  my  excuse  for  this  composition. 


(13) 


OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY 


A  PLEA  FOR  THE   INDIAN 


Don't  seek  to  wrong  your  fellow  man, 

Or  rob  him  of  his  right, 

No  matter  if  his  skin  be  red, 

Or  whether  it  be  white; 

Dame  Nature  gave  you  being, 

Intelligence  and  birth, 

Her  laws  ordained  that  you  and  I 

Should  both  live  on  this  earth; 

She  also  gave  the  Indian 

His  color,  form,  and  life; 

Don't  try  to  stab  him  in  the  back, 

Because  you  have  a  knife; 

Creation's  laws  you  cannot  change, 

Nor  even  yet  may  know, 

You  cannot  tell  from  whence  you  came, 

Nor  whither  you  may  go: 

Remember  you  are  human, 

And  Nature  gave  you  birth; 

Contented  strive  to  live  and  thrive — 

You  cannot  run  the  earth. 

Who  knows  but  in  some  foreign  clime, 

In  ages  far  remote, 

You  father's  father's  great-grand-father 

Never  wore  a  coat; 

His  color  may  have  been  as  dark 

As  that  of  poor  old  Lo! 

If  any  one  should  ask  you, 

Just  tell  them  you  don't  know. 

It  may  be  Darwin  had  it  right, 

The  "missing  link"  may  be 

Alive  and  well  and  yet  may  tell 

About  that  mystery. 

If  this  be  true  of  course  then  you 

Most  surely  could  not  fail 

To  see  that  you  descended  from 

The  brute  with  the  long  tail. 

(14) 


THE  MINER'S  SONG 


I've  a  little  gold  mine 

Up  on  yonder  hill; 
Crowded  full  of  nuggets, 

Near  a  shady  rill. 
When  I  find  a  sweetheart, 

Just  the  proper  style, 
Then  we'll  dig  the  nuggets  out, 

And  put  them  in  a  pile. 


She  must  be  just   right,  with   eyes  as   bright 
As  the  twinkling  stars  on  a  summer's  night, 
With  a  voice  as  sweet  as  a  song  bird's  trill; 
Then  we'll  tap  the  gold  mine  on  the  hill. 


When  I  find  a  sweetheart, 

One  who  loves  me  true; 
Loves  me  not  for  nuggets, 

But   loves  the  miner  too, 
I  will  be  her  sweetheart, 

She   shall   be  my  wife; 
Then  we'll  tap  the  gold  mine 

And  settle  down  for  life. 


(15) 


ARIZONA 


When  the  Devil  was  ordered  a  place  to  find, 
Which  he  could  prepare  for  some  of  his  kind, 
He  started  from  Heaven  for  a  trip  to  the  moon, 
But  found  it  so  cold  that  he  left  very  soon- 
Then  he  met  old  Saint  Peter,  who  to  him  did  say, 
If  you  want  to  raise  Hell,  go  to  Arizon-a. 

He  got  his  liquor  and  packed  his  grip, 

And  started  out  to  make  the  trip; 

He  landed — though  I  don't  know  where, 

But  he  landed  on  a  prickly  pear. 

He  curled  his  tail  and  shook  his  horns, 

When  he  found  his  body  full  of  thorns; 

They  stuck  clear  through,  both  hide  and  hair, 

And  made  the  poor  old  Devil  swear. 

Then  he  opened  his  grip,  put  on  his  shoes, 

And  took  a  great  big  drink  of  booze; 

And  started  out  to  view  the  land, 

But  his  tail  dragged  in  the  red-hot  sand. 

How  hot  it  was  he  could  not  tell, 

But  quite  enough  for  a  first-class  Hell. 

"I  wonder  where  they  got  this  heat — 
I'll  make  a  Hell  that  can't  be  beat, 
For  old  Saint  Peter  gave  me  the  tip, 
And  I  don't  want  to  lose  my  grip." 
Then  he  tied  his  tail  between  his  wings, 
And   went   to   making   thorny  things: 
How  many  kinds  he  could  not  tell; 
But  enough  to  make  a  great  big  Hell. 

He  studded  the  bushes  and  trees  with  thorns, 
The  flies  with  stingers,  the  toads  with  horns, 
And  whene'er  he  found  a  bit  of  sand 
He  filled  it  up  with  his  devilish  band. 
The  Gila  Monster  and  centipede, 
And  Scorpions  of  a  venomous  breed. 


(16) 


And  then,  this  Chief  of  the  Brimstone  Lake, 

Imported   the   Tarantula   and   Rattlesnake, 

The  Apache  Indian  of  bloody  fame 

Was  next  enlisted  for  his  infernal  game, 

And  a  venomous  Skunk  with  a  seal-brown  smell, 

Whose  bite  will  send  you  straight  to  Hell. 

The  Rivers  with  sand  were  almost  dry, 
The  Water  was  seasoned  with  alkali, 
And  as  he  stood   on  the  slimy  brink 
He  turned  his  head  from  the  horrible  stink: 
It  made  HIM  sick,  so  he  moved  his  camp 
To  a  little  stream  called  Hassayamp. 

But  what  to  do  he  did  not  know, 

For  he  found  his  supplies  were  getting  low. 

Then  said  he:   "I'll  play  a  dirty  trick 

Upon  the  waters  of  this  little  crick — " 

And  ever  since,  the  passing  youth 

That  takes  a  drink,  can't  tell  the  truth. 

But  now  they  call  it  "the  sun-kissed  land," 
With  its  desolate  plains  of  cactus  and  sand, 
And  only  one  river  that's  sure  to  flow 
From  the  Utah  line  to  Mexico. 
The  water  you  drink  is  full  of  Frogs, 
Or  little  Bugs  and  Pollywogs, 
And  in  Fossil  Creek  and  Havasupai 
Is  another  kind  that  will  petrify. 

With   forty  kinds  of   stinging  Bees, 
Blowflies,   Ants,   and   Lice,  and   Fleas, 
And  Rats  and  Mice  to  make  you  weep — 
For  all  YOU  sow  THEY'RE  sure  to  reap— 
With  Storms  of  Sand  and  Simoons  too, 
And  Blizzards  that  will  chill  you  through, 
And  what  comes  next  no  one  can  tell — 
I'd  like  to  know  if  it  don't  beat  Hell. 


(17) 


THE  ARIZONA  BACHELOR 


I'm  a  bachelor  gay,  and  I  live  far  away 
In  a  house,  all  alone,  on  the  plain, 

My  reputation's  at  stake,  I've  a  fortune  to  make, 
Some  wealth  for  old  age  must  I  gain. 


I've  no  wife,  me  to  scold,  no  cradle  to  rock, 

No   calico   dresses  to   buy; 
I  make  my  own  bed,  likewise  my  own  bread, 

Cook  steak  or  make  rabbit  pot-pie. 


In  my  house  there  is  room  for  the  brush  and  the  broom, 

A  table,  a  stove,  and  some  chairs, 
And  many  things  more,  in  my  house  I  might  store, 

If  she'd  come  and  take  charge  of  affairs. 


I'd  be  awful  good,  I'd  cut  all  the  wood, 
Make  the  fires  every  morning,  I  vow; 

I'd  care  for  the  pigs,  the  chickens  and  eggs, 
And   carefully  milk  the   old   cow. 


Spring  bonnets  I'd  buy  with  never  a  sigh, 
Do  this,  and  much  more,  I  confess, 

Catnip  tea  I  would  make  for  its  dear  little  sake, 
If  a  baby  our  union  should  bless. 


(18) 


Paregoric  and  pills,  soothing  syrup  and  squills; 

What  more  can  I  say  to  persuade 
Some  rosy-cheeked  miss,  who  is  seeking  for  bliss, 

Or  maybe  some  charming  old  maid. 


I  don't  keep  a  cat,  but  I've  got  a  pet  rat, 
He  comes  in  and  sits  by  my  fire; 

He  plays  at  my  feet,  and  eats  when  I  eat, 
And  does  all  that  I  could  desire. 


In  fact,  he  does  more,  for  from  under  the  floor 
He  brings  thorns,  and  cactus,  and  sticks, 

And  trades  them  for  coffee,  for  beans,  and  for  rice, 
He  is  full  of  such  bothersome  tricks. 


He  may  do  it  in  play;  he's  a  trade  rat,  they  say, 

Yet  oft,  this  advice  do  I  give: 
"You  must  stop,  Mr.  Rat,  or  I'll  get  a  big  cat 

And  he'll  kill  you,  as  sure  as  you  live." 


And  the  mice,  young  and  old,  they  are  growing  quite  bold, 
Yet  they  call  him  "the  sly  little  mouse/' 

They  would  keep  you  awake  with  the  noises  they  make — 
You  would  think  there  were  thieves  in  the  house. 


I  have  horses  and  cows,  I've  wagons  and  plows, 
And  many  things  more  I  might  name. 

I've  courage  and  skill  to  work  with  a  will — 
There  is  plenty  to  do  on  my  claim. 


I  venture  to  say  no  old  maid  would  stay 

All  alone,  as  we  bachelors  do. 
She  might  there  be  found  till  leap  year  came  'round, 

And  then  at  her  home  there'd  be  two! 


(19) 


But  Adam  of  old,  in  the  Good  Book  we're  told, 
Was   unhappy   until   he   got   Eve, 

And  although  many  doubt  this  story  throughout, 
That  part  I  can  easy  believe. 


Away  back  in  the  States,  without  any  mates, 
Old  maids  they  are  plenty,  they  say — 

But  here  in  the  West,  where  the  sun  sinks  to  rest, 
Old  bachelors  they  have   the  sway. 


So  if  you're  inclined,  I'm  sure  you  could  find 

A  husband  both  tender  and  true, 
So  don't  live  alone,  but  make  your  wants  known; 

We  have   firesides   awaiting   for   you. 


In  our  Garden  of  Eden,  are  no  tempting  snakes, 

Our  title,  our  right,  to  dispute; 
We  won't  have  to  leave,  like  Adam  and  Eve, 

For  eating  the  forbidden  fruit. 


(20) 


THE  WONDERS  OF  THE  WORLD 


On  June  ist,  1894,  the  Saginaw  Lumber  Company,  of  Williams,  Arizona, 
gave  a  banquet  at  the  Harvey  Hotel,  to  which  they  invited  capitalists,  rail 
road  managers,  newspaper  correspondents,  governors,  and  representative  men 
from  Arizona,  California,  and  New  Mexico,  for  the  purpose  of  interesting  them 
in  the  opening  of  their  lumber  industry,  which  has  become  one  of  the  largest 
in  the  West.  A  complimentary  trip  to  the  Grand  Canyon  was  given  them  the 
following  day,  under  my  guidance,  I  furnishing  the  equipment.  The  party  num 
bered  thirty  in  all.  Among  the  many  toasts  given  at  the  banquet  this  one  was 
given  and  so  well-received  that  I  was  requested  to  furnish  a  copy  for  publica 
tion  in  the  Los  Angeles  Times.  The  work  of  caring  for  the  party  so  occupied 
my  attention  that  I  failed  to  supply  the  copy.  This,  therefore,  is  its  first  ap 
pearance  in  type. 


Babylon's  walls  are  tottering  in  decay, 
The  Hanging  Gardens  long  have  passed  away, 
The  Pyramids,  begrimed  with  age  and  rust — 
The  pride  of  Egypt — crumbling  into  dust, 
Nor  yet  was  spared  that  wond'rous  Tomb 
Of  Artemisia;  that  has  met  its  doom. 


The  devastating  tooth  of  Time 
Has  rasped  those  Grecian  temples  fine, 
Their  dust  now  mingles  with  their  dead, 
And  fills  the  place  where  prayers  were  said; 
The  tireless  waves  on  Alexandria's  strand 
Where  once  the  Pharos  used  to  stand, 
Have  gained  their  level  at  its  cost, 
And  Wonder  Number  Six  is  lost. 

(21) 


No  favored  god  comes  forth  to  save 
His  honored  temple  from  its  earthly  grave, 
Olympia's  tribute  towering  to  the  skies, 
Invoked  no  help  from  Jupiter  to  save  his  prize. 
And  thus  the  works  of  man  must  pass  away, 
The  ancient  wonders  all  have  had  their  day, 
Mythology  has  heralded  their  fame, 
And  some  existed  only  in  the  name. 


Americans  go  doddering  off  to  Rome, 
To  miss  far  greater  wonders  here  at  home; 
Go  forth  within  the  borders  of  our  land, 
Behold  the  wond'rous  skill  on  every  hand— 
This  age  of  progress  teems  with  magic  power, 
And  something  new  develops  every  hour. 


Our  modern  minds  are  equal  to  the  task, 

Electric  power  successfully  to  grasp, 

With  copper  coils  and  threads  of  steel 

We  move  triumphantly  our  commerce-wheel; 

Her  avenues  are  open  in  mid-air; 

Search  in  the  ocean  depths— you'll  find  them  there. 


That  human  skill  we  all  should  ever  bless, 
That  gave  to  us  the  printing  press — 
Our  Toasts  and  Speeches  given  here  tonight 
May  be  in  print  before  tomorrow's  light. 
Her  gracious  contributions  to  mankind 
Perfects  God's  greatest  gift — the  human  mind 


To  Nature's  wonders  I  will  drink  this  toast, 
For  these  inspire  my  admiration  most, 
And  those  within  the  borders  of  our  land, 
I  hold  to  be  most  beautiful  and  grand; 
Niagara's  grandeur  all  unite  to  praise, 
Her  wond'rous  beauty  ever  does  amaze 

(22) 


The  Rocky  Mountains  have  an  endless  store 
Of  wild,  romantic  beauty  to  adore, 
The  Gunnison  and  canyon  of  the  Arkansas 
Will  fill  your  soul  with  speechless  awe. 
Shoshone  and  the  far-famed  Yellowstone 
Have  gorgeous  beauties,  severally  their  own. 


Yosemite,  that  fairy  land  of  ours, 

Enchanting  spot  of  sunshine,  shade  and  flowers, 

Of  crested  dome,  and  towering  wall, 

And  Bridal  Veil  of  waterfall. 

A   Paradise   in   which   to   dream 

Of  glittering  gold  on  every  stream. 


Fair  Arizona's  wonders  I'll  extol, 

E'er  lips  shall  touch  this  flowing  bowl; 

Her  fertile  valleys,  rivaling  the  Nile, 

Her  vast  volcanic  mountains,  majestic  in  defile, 

Here  pre-historic  ruins,  that  teach  in  ancient  lore, 

The  Well  of  Montezuma,  the  Aztec  God  of  yore. 


Her  Calcedona  forests,  and  mines  of  precious  ore, 

Her  wond'rous  groups  of  Cataracts,  as  never  seen  before, 

Within  the  borders  of  this  sun-kissed  land 

There  is  a  Canyon,  wide,  and  deep,  and  grand, 

Two  hundred  miles  in  length,  or  more, 

A  scene  of  marvelous  wonders,  a  never-ending  store, 

A  fathomless  abyss  of  architectural  skill, 


Of  Nature's  faultless  handiwork,  your  very  soul  to  thrill. 

Phantasmal  sculptured  Temples,  bewildering  and  sublime, 

Harmoniously  contrasted — the  corrosive  work  of  Time; 

Incomprehensive  beauty,  without  a  parallel, 

No  human  skill  can  copy,  no  human  tongue  can  tell, 

A  kaleidoscopic  picture  improving  with  decay, 

The  most  impressive  wonder  of  this,  our  present  day. 

(23) 


THE  STATEHOOD  BILL 


Respectfully  (more  or  less  so)   dedicated  to  Ex-President  Roosevelt. 
Tune:    The  Wild  Man  of  Borneo- 


I  calculate  of  Statehood  we  soon  shall  have  our  fill, 
I  think  'most  anybody  would,  who's  watched  the  Statehood  bill, 
I  never  was  so  full  of  "Rats"  that  I  could  think  that  way, 
We've  got  too  many  Democrats  in  A-ri-zone-e-ay. 

The  message  of  the  President  was  read  the  other  day, 
No  doubt  he  said  just  what  he  meant— it  kind  'a  looks  that  way, 
But  if  you're  up  in  figures,  I  know  just  what  you'll  say— 
We're  a  little  short  of  "niggers"  in  A-ri-zone-e-ay. 

Now  if  you'll  read  between  the  lines,  it's  bound  to  do  you  good; 
"Keep  working  on  the  farms  and  mines,  there's  nothing  in  Statehood, 
You're  short  of  population,  and  ignorant,"  they  say, 
"You  can  never  vote  for  President  in  A-ri-zone-e-ay." 


(24) 


THE  STATEHOOD  BILL 


Statehood  now  is  all  the  rage, 
In  the  Senate  Chamber; 
Beveridge  is  showing  age; 
Dillingham  is  tamer. 


Old  Knute  Nelson's  got  the  blues — 
Chafing  in  the  collar — 
Wonder  if  he's  heard  the  news — 
Wouldn't  bet  a  dollar. 


Every  day  we're  losing  ground, 
Opposition  stronger — 
They  will  surely  have  us  "downed" 
If  we  wait  much  longer. 


Statehood  for  New  Mexico 
And  for  Oklahoma! 
Guess  we'll  have  to  let  her  go, 
Leave  out  Arizona. 


If  we'd  kept  the  bridle  on 
The  kid  from  Indiana; 
If  Matt  Quay — well,  he's  gone — 
So  is  Marcus  Hanna. 


Foraker  and  many  more, 
Now  begin  to  grumble; 
Those  we  counted  on  before, 
Must  have  "took  a  tumble." 

(25) 


Bard  and  Hayburn  gave  us  fits, 
Elkins  made  it  thunder, 
McCumber  tore  us  into  bits — 
A  declamatic  wonder. 


Democrats  have  had  their  say, 
We've  heard  from  Colorado; 
Montana  Clark  threw  in  the  way 
A  veritable  tornado. 


We've  got  to  meet  the  Solid  South 
Upon  this  proposition; 
Guess  we'd  better  shut  our  mouth 
'Bout  double  state  admission. 


Something  in  this  western  air 
Makes  those  fellows  gritty, 
Honest,  brave  and  debonair — 
Some  of  them  are  witty. 


Independent  sort  of  chaps, 
Presidential  timber- 
Teddy  got  it  wearing  "chaps"— 
Nimble,  lithe  and  limber. 


Would  not  help  us  out  a  bit, 
Said  he  could  not  see  it; 
Beveridge  quite  had  a  fit, 
Scarcely  could  believe  it. 


Quarles  and  Spooner  found  it  so, 
The  party  whip  is  broken; 
Wisconsin  politicians  know, 
That  must  have  seen  the  token. 

(26) 


Double  statehood  is  not  fair — 
It's  bound  to  see  defeat; 
Teddy  Roosevelt  in  the  chair — 
Go  back  and  take  a  seat. 


Dillingham  has  sealed  his  fate 
Thus  to  be  outwitted, 
Forgets  about  his  own  fair  State 
And  how  that  was  admitted. 


Took  a  trip  in  a  special  car, 
Just  for  information; 
Guess  he'd  never  been  so  fai 
Wonders  at  creation. 


Found  out  where  consumptives  go, 
Also  "ignorant  miners";    • 
Where  the  date  and  orange  grow, 
Saw  some  ore  refiners. 


Beveridge  took  some  photographs — 
Regular  deceivers — 
Everyone  who  sees  them  laughs — 
Indians  and  greasers. 


(27) 


FROZEN  POTATOES 


This  doggerel  needs  a  little  explanation.  As  all  who  have  been  to  my 
house  near  "Bass  Station"  know,  there  is  neither  a  depot,  a  platform,  or  a 
siding  at  the  station.  Trains  stop  and  people  get  off  as  best  they  can.  Now, 
while  it  is  easy  enough  where  the  ground  is  level,  it  is  not  so  easy  where  the 
track  is  on  an  embankment.  In  the  handling  of  my  provisions,  which  generally 
come  on  the  Canyon  passenger  train,  it  depends  on  the  engineer  whether  he 
stops  so  that  goods  can  be  landed  on  the  level,  or  down  the  embankment.  If 
he  refuses  to  "go  ahead"  a  little,  or  "back"  a  little,  and  the  brakeman  or  who 
ever  handles  the  freight  "doesn't  care,"  my  stuff  is  "thrown  off  anyhow/'  and 
I  may  get  it  as  best  I  can.  On  one  occasion  a  sack  of  potatoes  were  dumped 
into  the  snow  and  froze;  on  another,  a  sack  of  sugar  dropped  onto  the  soak 
ing  ground — wet  after  a  heavy  rain — in  spite  of  the  fact  that  I  had  placed 
some  boxes  as  a  rude  platform.  Boxes  containing  perishable  freight  have  been 
"dropped"  down  the  embankment,  and  glassware,  etc.,  broken,  when  ordinary 
handling  would  have  done  no  harm.  In  August,  1909,  the  railway  company 
built  a  small  and  rude  platform  to  facilitate  the  dismounting  of  passengers,  and 
the  unloading  of  freight,  and  within  a  few  days,  because  of  a  trumped-up  and 
false  charge  that  I  had  "solicited  passengers"  on  the  train,  on  the  occasion  of 
a  return  trip  from  Los  Angeles,  it  was  removed,  and  we  are  again  at  the  mercy 
and  good-will  of  the  engineer  or  brakeman  or  conductor  as  to  whether  we  get 
"frozen  potatoes,"  or  not. 


There  is  a  fellow  by  the  name  of  Bass; 
Of  course,  you  take  him  for  an  "ass" 
Because  he  lives  away  out  in  the  woods, 
And  has  to  buy  potatoes  and  store  goods. 


What  need  has  he  of  anything  to  eat? 

He  ought  to  set  a  trap  and  catch  his  meat. 

And  then  potatoes,  everybody  knows, 

Are  just  as  common  as  the  wind  that  blows. 

(28) 


What  matter  if  they  are  a  little  froze? 
And  then  we  always  hurry  when  it  snows. 
Just  step  one  side;   I'll  drop  this  box — 
Those  bottles  in  it  need  a  few  more  knocks. 


This  fellow  has  no  business  sending  freight 

Out,  when  the  Canyon  train  is  late, 

And  then,  to  mix  it  up  a  little  bit, 

We'll  make  him  think  that  we  are  surely  "it* 


He's  put  some  boxes  here  along  the  track, 
A  nice,  dry  place  to  put  that  sugar  sack; 
But  then,  we'd  have  six  feet  to  "pack" 
And  Miller  he  does  always  hate  to  back. 


Just  drop  the  barley  in  the  snow, 
And  these  potatoes  give  an  extra  throw — 
Don't  pile  them  on  the  other  things  so  high, 
Because,  possibly,  it  might  keep  them  dry; 


And  if  they're  wet,  perchance,  there'll  come  a  breeze 

And  then  I  know well  they'll  freeze- 

Now  just  as  like  as  not  he'll  come  today, 
For  Bass  lives  only  twenty  miles  away; 


And,  if  he  comes  without  delay 
He'll  get  the  goods,  for  which  he  has  to  pay. 
Now,  there's  a  "moral"  to  this  little  tale; 
In  your  cerebrum  it  may  drive  a  nail. 


No  matter  if  you  only  chance  to  be 
A  measly  brakeman  on  the  Santa  Fe, 
You  know  full  well,  your  heart's  desire 
Is  that  you  may  attain  to  something  higher; 

(29) 


And  if  your  record  proves  you  tried  to  be 
A  careful  man,  to  trust  with  property — 
The  more  so  to  a  fellow  "out  at  sea," 
Where  every  pound  means  two,  to  such  as  me — 

Your  "boss*  will  want  a  trusty  man  some  day, 
And  Gibson's  just  the  man  that's  sure  to  say: 
"Now,  there's  that  Lockman,  on  the  Canyon  freight- 
He's  run  some  trips,  and  handles  things  first-rate. 


He  seems  to  know  the  rules,  and  watch  the  time, 
And  then  there's  been  no  kick  along  the  line. 
In  fact,  we've  heard  old  timers  out  there  say 
They'd  like  to  see  that  fellow  Lockman  stay 
And  run  that  train;  for  then  they'd  know 
He'd  never  throw  potatoes  in  the  snow." 


(30) 


LAW  UPON  HIS  BRAIN 


This  jingle  was  evoked  by  the  fact  that  a  California  lawyer— the  Mr.  Mur 
phy  here  named — wrote  several  effusions  about  me,  scorning  my  efforts  to  help 
the  Havasupai  Indians,  when  I  took  down  to  them  Mr.  Gaddis,  the  first  farmer 
appointed  to  work  for  them  on  their  reservation.  In  these  "poems"  he  referred 
to  me  as  "Supai  Bill."  When  I  got  home  and  read  what  he  had  written  I 
produced  the  following.  He  never  bothered  me  again.  Who,  then,  will  dare  to 
say  I  am  not  an  "effective"  poet? 


"Oh,  what  is  ailing  Jimmie  H?"  was  asked  of  me  tonight. 
"Has  anyone  been  telling  him  that  he  could  win  a  fight? 
Or  has  he  read  in  story  books  of  deeds  of  blood  and  pain?" 
"Oh,  no,  my  friends,"  I  answered,  "It's  Law  upon  his  brain." 


That  it's  law  upon  his  brains,  to  me  it's  very  plain. 

They're  small,  and  few,  and  common  too,  and  could  not  stand  the  strain. 

He  overtaxed  his  energy,  gave  his  nerves  an  awful  jar, 

When  he  was  admitted  to  the  Arizona  Bar. 


He's  more  on  hand  than  Barnum  had,  when  Jumbo  first  was  found, 
With  his  lightning,  law,  and  literature,  and  logic  so  profound. 
Reporter  for  the  public  press  for  many  miles  around, 
A  pugilist,  and  poet,  and  does  it  all  by  sound- 

His  paper  costs  him  nothing,  his  pen  and  ink  are  free. 
He's  lots  of  time  for  writing,  he  works  for  the  A.  P. 
Those  who  know  him  do  not  blame  him,  altho'  they  firmly  vow 
He'd  better  change  his  calling,  and  get  a  ranchman's  plow. 

(31) 


Don't  be  foolish,  Mr.  Murphy,  you  yet  have  lots  to  learn; 
You've  many  irons  to  handle,  and  some  will  surely  burn; 
The  fire  in  which  you've  placed  them  a  white  heat  may  attain, 
And  cause  you  greater  trouble  than  the  law  upon  your  brain. 


When  Nellie  Bly  went  'round  the  world,  she  won  both  wealth  and  fame. 
John  Sullivan,  as  a  fighting  man,  acquired  a  wond'rous  name, 
And  "Supai  Bill"  with  nerve  and  skill  has  prospects  brighter  far 
Than  the  windy  kid  of  Williams  has,  in  front  of  Taber's  bar. 

Be  careful,  Mr.  Murphy — the  little  that  you  know 
Will  never  make  you  wealthy,  no  matter  where  you  go; 
Then  keep  away  from  whiskey,  respect  your  wife  and  home, 
And  when  you  write  your  "poetry,"  leave  "Supai  Bill"  alone. 


(32) 


ODE  TO  JUDGE  SANFORD 


Thro'out  this  life  of  care  and  strife,  we've  many  things  to  fear. 
Disease  and  death  may  take  our  breath,  and  bring  us  to  our  bier. 
Morphine  and  rum  have  ended  some,  old  age  has  claimed  a  few, 
While  others  die,  with  many  a  sigh,  for  lovers  who  prove  untrue. 


And  death  may  come  to  old  and  young  in  other  ways,  we  know- 
It's  not  denied  that  some  have  died  from  hearing  others  "blow." 
The  other  day  on  High  Street,  right  near  to  Avenue  C, 
A  policeman  found  a  lady — quite  dead  she  seemed  to  be. 


He  bathed  her  face  with  water  and  put  camphor  on  her  head, 
Which  quickly  did  relieve  her,  and  this  is  what  she  said: 
"I  was  talked  to  death  by  Sanford — had  a  'reservation  stew,' 
Knew  all  about  the  Indians,  and  what  Bass  is  going  to  do. 


"The  Bible,  and  the  tariff,  election  and  the  moon 
Were  talked  about,  from  morning  until  the  -afternoon; 
It  really  is  a  pity  that  the  Judge  has  lost  his  head; 
If  left  to  blow  his  bugle,  we  soon  will  all  be  dead. 


He  never  tires  or  falters,  or  lets  you  get  away, 

But  if  you'll  stand  and  listen,  he'll  talk  to  you  all  day." 

One  cold  and  frosty  morning,  not  many  years  ago, 

A  man  was  found  in  Prescott,  quite  dead  from  top  to  toe. 


They  quickly  held  an  inquest,  and  friends  and  neighbors,  too, 
With  earnest  zest,  each  did  his  best,  and  stated  what  he  knew. 
'Twas  all  in  vain,  naught  could  explain  his  death  while  in  his  prime. 
And  for  a  year  naught  did  appear  to  solve  this  awful  crime. 

(33) 


At  last  one  night,  all  robed  in  white,  a  ghost  appeared  to  view, 
And  this  is  what  it  stated,  and  solemnly  vowed  'twas  true: 
"I  was  talked  to  death  by  Sanford — such  pain  no  tongue  can  tell — 
A  horrid  fate,  I'm  free  to  state,  much  worse  than  a  year  in  Hell." 


Americans  are  boastful  of  the  freedom  of  the  press— 
Each  man  is  free  and  equal  in  our  laws,  we  all  confess; 
But  our  great  and  glorious  statesmen  have  failed  to  find  relief 
From  the  attacks  of  this  old  Chieftain,  with  his  bigoted  belief. 


He'll  talk  you  deaf,  he'll  talk  you  dumb,  sometimes  he'd  make  you  sigh, 
With  a  Chinese  wink  he'd  have  you  think  he  never  told  a  lie; 
And  when  a  stranger  comes  to  town,  the  Judge  will  surely  be 
On  hand  to  load  him,  to  the  brim,  with  Infidelity. 


(34) 


COME  TO  BASS  CAMP 


If  you  find  your  health  is  failing, 

And  you  need  a  little  rest, 
A  trip  to  Arizona 

I  am  sure  would  suit  you  best; 
Just  drop  the  cares  of  business, 

And  forget  your  aches  and  ills — 
Try  pure  air  and  lots  of  sunshine, 

As  a  substitute  for  pills. 

Camp  grub  and  lots  of  exercise, 

A  horse-back  ride  each  day; 
Sleep  out  beneath  the  stars  at  night — 

It  will  drive  disease  away. 
Become  a  child  of  Nature, 

Let  her  take  you  in  her  arms, 
She  will  speak  to  you  in  raptured  tones, 

And  reveal  to  you  her  charms. 

You  have  read  about  our  Canyons, 

And  our  mountains  clothed  in  pines, 
Of  mysterious  ancient  villages, 

And  fabulous  wealth  of  mines; 
There's  an  endless  store  of  knowledge 

To  be  gained  by  one  and  all, 
And  priceless  health  and  vigor, 

Is  awaiting  at  your  call. 

Now,  if  you're  undecided 

And  don't  know  where  to  go, 
Just  write  to  Bass,  the  Canyon  Guide, 

Because  he's  sure  to  know; 

(35) 


His  camps  are  full  of  interest, 
His  trails  are  built  with  care, 

With  rigs  or  Saddle  Animals, 
He  will  safely  take  you  there. 

He  knows  the  points  of  interest, 

Up  and  down  on  either  side, 
He  has  horses,  mules  and  burros, 

And  you  can  walk  or  ride. 
You  can  cross  the  Colorado 

On  a  cable  every  day — 
The  River  may  be  raging, 

But  it  cannot  block  the  way. 


You  can  camp  upon  the  Shinumo — 

That  never-failing  stream, 
Whose  pure  and  crystal  waters 

With  health  and  vigor  teem, 
Where  are  famous  melon-patches, 

And  gardens  on  its  shore; 
With  chickens,  eggs,  and  vegetables. 

Oh,  who  could  wish  for  more! 


(36) 


THE   GRAND   CANYON  AS  A  PLACE 
TO   VISIT 


To  expect  one  to  tabulate  the  reasons  why  intelligent  human 
beings  should  visit  the  Grand  Canyon  and  seek  to  know  something 
of  its  mysteries  is  just  as  unreasonable  as  to  expect  that  any  one 
person  can  write  an  adequate  description  of  this,  the  greatest  natu 
ral  wonder  known  to  man. 

Were  it  possible  for  each  visitor  to  write  his  individual  im 
pressions,  there  would  be  material  differences  in  each,  and  in  the 
lapse  of  a  few  years  some  "plagiarist"  would  sift  out  a  little  from 
the  various  articles  and  produce  what  would  be,  in  reality,  a  fair 
description  of  this  mysterious  place.  Critics  would  then  say,  "At 
last  a  writer  has  succeeded  in  describing  the  Grand  Canyon."  But 
in  whatever  else  the  descriptions  might  differ,  it  is  certain  they 
would  all,  more  or  less,  tell  of  the  instantaneous  and  powerful  effect 
upon  the  emotions  experienced  when  the  first  glimpse  of  the  Can 
yon  was  afforded.  This  experience  is  so  universal  that  a  careful 
observer  will  watch  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  discerning  the  differ 
ent  emotions  expressed  by  the  various  visitors.  It  is  not  unlikely 
that  this  overwhelming  effect  upon  the  emotions  is  largely  due  to 
the  suddenness  with  which  the  Canyon  must  be  met.  There  can 
be  no  preparation  for  the  introduction.  It  jumps  before  you  like 
the  leap  of  a  panther,  or  the  flash  of  forked  lightning.  It  is  the  im 
probable,  the  unnatural,  the  unexpected  that  shakes  one's  nerves 
and  the  ordeal  at  the  Canyon  is  a  new  sensation. 

As  one  approaches  it  there  is  little  in  the  topography  of  the 
surface  or  the  general  surroundings,  to  intimate  his  close  proximity 
to  the  brink.  He  may  have  noted  the  outlines  of  the  opposite  wall, 
with  a  bold  headland  or  two  jutting  out  into  the  atmosphere,  but 
gets  no  idea  of  the  yawning  inferno  at  its  base. 

For  the  last  six  or  eight  miles  the  upward  slant  of  the  surface, 
and  the  dense  growth  of  the  timber  shut  out  everything  else. 

Then,  too,  our  senses  are  not  trained  to  grasp  such  awful  di 
mensions  instantaneously.  It  requires  time  and  intimate  associ 
ation. 

By  all  means  visit  it;  don't  miss  it.    It  will  repay  you  a  thous- 

(37) 


and  times.  Go  if  you  have  to  borrow  the  money.  You  will  work 
the  harder  when  you  get  back.  Go  alone  if  necessary,  but  get  your 
friends  to  go  with  you  if  possible.  There  is  grandeur  enough  for 
all.  If  necessary  join  in  with  strangers;  you  will  be  friends  before 
you  get  back.  It  will  broaden  your  intellect,  strengthen  your  belief 
in  the  power  and  wisdom  of  the  Infinite  and  give  you  a  new  idea 
of  Creation.  It  will  start  you  to  thinking  and  reasoning  on  higher 
planes,  suggest  to  you  something  of  the  immensity  of  geologic 
times,  and  of  eternity,  and  bring  you  closer  to  the  God  of  nature. 

But  do  not  come,  as  most  people  do,  expecting  to  see  and  know 
it  all  in  a  visit  of  a  few  hours.  The  ordinary  visitor  who  thinks  he 
can  grasp  it  all  in  one  or  two  days  may  read  as  he  runs — and  run  he 
will — for  usually  he  plans  to  do  just  as  many  miles  and  over  as 
much,  or  more,  territory  on  the  precipitous  trails  and  difficult  in 
clines,  as  would  be  possible  on  the  rim. 

There  are  really  three  distinct  sections  of  the  Grand  Canyon — 
I  mean  that  portion  made  accessible  by  the  railway.  The  first — that 
will  always  be  seen  by  the  great  majority — is  what  might  be  called 
the  central  portion,  where  El  Tovar  hotel  is  located — where  the 
railway  deposits  its  Grand  Canyon  passengers.  This  is  grand  and 
sublime,  and  when  one  visits  Hopi  Point  to  the  west,  and  Yavapai 
Point  to  the  east  he  has  seen  that  which  was  worth  crossing  the 
continent  to  see. 

But  I  have  yet  to  find  a  single  individual  who  did  not  agree 
that  the  eastern  and  western  sections,  respectively,  are  both  much 
superior  to  the  central  section,  both  for  variety  of  architectural 
form,  geologic  interest,  and  diversity  of  sculpturing. 

The  eastern  end  practically  begins  at  the  Grand  View  Point 
and  extends  to  the  chasm  of  the  Little  Colorado.  Here,  the  break 
in  the  Canyon  is  so  vast  that  the  abyss  is  "opened  up"  to  much 
larger  view  than  elsewhere. 

To  my  own  mind,  however,  the  western  section  surpasses  them 
all.  It  was  the  section  of  my  choice,  made  before  any  other  human 
being  of  the  white  race  had  chosen  a  home  location  on  the  Canyon. 
It  includes  Havasupai  Point,  the  one  great  salient  promontory 
that,  on  the  south  side,  corresponds,  in  grandeur  of  outlook,  with 
Point  Sublime  on  the  north.  It  is  directly  opposite  Powell  Plateau 
and  the  pinnacle  of  the  Kaibab  Plateau — the  highest  section  by  a 
thousand  feet  of  any  other  part  of  the  whole  Canyon  system.  Bass 

(38) 


Camp  is  immediately  at  the  dividing  line  where  the  granite  "runs 
out,"  and  the  river  has  made  its  gorge  through  the  softer  red  sand 
stones,  thus  affording  two  kinds  of  scenery  not  found  in  such  prox 
imity  in  any  other  accessible  part  of  the  Canyon.  At  the  foot  of 
the  Bass  Trail  is  the  only  ferry  and  cable  crossing  in  the  Grand 
Canyon,  where  men  and  animals  can  be  transported  from  one  side 
of  the  river  to  the  other.  Close  to  the  crossing,  on  the  north  side, 
is  the  Camp  on  the  exquisitely  pure  Shinumo  Creek,  which  irri 
gates  the  Shinumo  Gardens,  where  fruits  and  vegetables  of  all  kinds 
abound  in  season.  Here,  too,  are  numberless  cliff  dwellings  and 
corn-storage  houses  of  a  prehistoric  race,  which  one  passes  in  go 
ing  up  the  Bass  Trail  on  the  north  side  to  Powell  Plateau,  the  Kai- 
bab  Plateau,  Point  Sublime,  and  the  Mormon  settlements  of  South 
ern  Utah. 

The  western  division  also  includes  the  picturesque,  fascinating 
and  unique  Havasu  (Cataract)  Canyon,  in  which  dwell  the  Hava- 
supai  Indians  in  their  corn  fields,  melon  patches,  peach  and  fig  or 
chards,  and  where  the  beautiful  Havasu  (Blue  Water)  Creek  flows 
down  between  willow-lined  banks  to  great  precipices  over  which  it 
dashes  in  a  series  of  strikingly  beautiful  waterfalls.  By  all  means 
visit  the  Canyon  at  the  "civilized"  locations,  where  hotels  and 
camps  are  prepared  to  provide  for  every  need  and  luxury.  But  if 
you  want  to  enjoy  it  to  the  full,  arrange  with  some  one  who  under 
stands — and  we  have  had  twenty-five  years'  experience  in  such  bus 
iness  at  the  western  end,  at  Bass  Camp — to  give  you  a  camping 
outfit,  with  bedding,  provisions  and  a  good  guide,  and  then  start  out 
for  all  the  out-of-the-way  places  that  only  the  few  and  really  ap 
preciative  ever  see.  On  horseback  take  your  time  to  view,  in  detail, 
all  that  you  are  interested  in,  and  then,  each  night,  when  the  camp 
ing  place  is  reached  and  you  have  given  personal  attention  to  a  suf 
ficient  allotment  of  the  regulation  camp-biscuit,  bacon  and  beans, 
and  other  out-door  fare,  seek  a  comfortable  spot  to  recline  upon, 
and  then  leisurely  contemplate  the  ever  shifting  panorama  before 
you. 


(39) 


HOW  WAS  THE  GRAND  CANYON 
FORMED? 


The  Grand  Canyon  of  Arizona  is  destined  to  become  more  fa 
mous  as  a  geological  revelation  than  as  a  scenic  attraction  when 
once  its  supreme  advantages  for  the  student  are  thoroughly  under 
stood.  It  is  a  paradise  in  which  to  study  the  evolution  of  the  earth, 
for  here  the  student  may  see  both  its  external  form  and  internal 
structure  at  the  same  time.  He  may  go  to  its  deepest  recess,  where 
the  bold  Colorado  has  secreted  its  murky  waters  in  the  contorted 
schists  and  pegmatites.  Its  chaotic  condition  is  here  laid  bare  in 
liberal  proportions.  Step  by  step,  as  he  ascends,  he  may  study  the 
action  of  both  physical  and  chemical  forces  and  also  the  action  and 
reaction  of  land  and  water,  of  heat  and  atmosphere,  and  their  effects 
upon  its  form  and  structure.  The  arrangement  of  the  rocks  and 
minerals,  and  its  various  forms  of  life  are  also  faithfully  preserved 
and  the  fossils  may  be  secured  for  minute  investigation.  Each  suc 
ceeding  condition  of  the  earth  has  recorded  its  own  history  and 
some  valuable  specimens  already  obtained  have  added  much  to  our 
knowledge  of  its  earliest  efforts  to  shake  off  its  chaotic  condition 
and  utilize  its  vast  store-house  of  material. 

My  desire  to  interest  the  scientific  minds  of  the  people  who 
have  money  to  endow  institutions  of  learning  is  constant  and  I 
most  earnestly  hope  the  day  is  not  far  distant  when  the  Grand 
Canyon  of  Arizona  will  not  be  wholly  monopolized  by  a  grasping 
railroad  octopus  for  commercial  purposes,  but  that  teachers  and 
students  of  every  class  may  come  here  to  spend  their  vacations  and 
while  regaining  lost  vigor  in  this  life-giving  climate,  may  also  have 
unlimited  opportunities  for  the  study  of  Historical,  Dynamical  and 
Structural  Geology,  surrounded  by  the  most  impressive  scenery  in 
the  known  world. 

While  there  have  been  some  study  and  considerable  writing 
about  the  Canyons  of  the  Colorado,  all  of  which  latter  is  interest 
ing  and  somewhat  instructive,  it  is  a  lamentable  fact  that  the  real 
Grand  Canyon — that  portion  known  as  the  granite  section — has 
never  received  the  close  attention,  by  any  geologist  of  note,  that 
its  supreme  importance  deserves.  This  is  self-evident,  as  we  have 
no  reports  from  them  concerning  it.  As  I  have  elsewhere 

(40) 


shown,  Powell,  in  his  first  exploration  merely  spent  six  days  in  the 
Granite  Gorge,  and  in  the  second  trip  eight  days.  How  much  geo 
logical  study  could  his  men  give  to  the  geological  and  dynamic 
problems  before  them  in  so  short  spaces  of  time,  especially  when 
all  their  energies  were  practically  utilized  in  manipulating  their 
boats  and  taking  care  of  themselves? 

In  1880-1  Captain  Button  visited  and  studied  the  Canyon  on 
the  north  rim,  and  from  Point  Sublime  wrote  these  vivid  and  effect 
ive  descriptions  that  will  ever  remain  the  standards  in  Canyon  liter 
ature,  yet  it  is  well  known  that  he  never  went  down  into  the  gran 
ite  section  of  the  Canyon;  all  his  work  was  done  from  above,  and 
the  merest  tyro  knows  that  the  granite  section  of  the  Grand  Can 
yon  does  not  yield  its  most  important  secrets  to  such  distant  and 
reserved  study. 

Dr.  Walcott,  now  Secretary  of  the  Smithsonian,  spent  one  win 
ter  at  the  head  of  the  Grand  Canyon,  but  he  scarcely  recognized  the 
granite  section,  as  all  his  study  was  devoted  to  the  Algonkian  se 
ries.  In  1891  he  and  Dr.  G.  K.  Gilbert  spent  a  few  days  down  my 
trail.  Dr.  Gilbert  had  also  made  the  trip  with  Wheeler,  in  1871,  up 
the  Canyon  to  the  mouth  of  Diamond  Creek,  but  that  was  a  very 
small  part  of  the  gorge,  and  in  their  case,  as  in  Powell's,  they  had 
enough  to  do  to  take  care  of  themselves  without  giving  much  at 
tention  to  geology. 

Even  the  recent  revision  of  the  maps  of  the  United  States  Geo 
logical  Survey  counts  for  nothing  in  giving  the  geological  history 
of  the  region.  That  this  is  an  important  step  in  the  work  and  gives 
accurate  contours  and  systematic  measurements  no  one  will  deny, 
but  it  simply  shows  present  conditions,  and  has  nothing  to  do  with 
historical  geology. 

Hence  my  emphatic  contention  made  here  and  elsewhere,  viz., 
that  the  granite  section  of  the  Grand  Canyon — the  most  important 
part  of  the  whole  Colorado  Canyon  system — has  not  yet  received 
a  moiety  of  the  attention  its  dignity  demands  at  the  hands  of  the 
scientific  student. 

Indeed,  I  venture  the  bold  affirmation  that  not  until  last  year, 
1908,  was  any  real,  dignified  effort  made  at  a  thorough  study  of  this 
part  of  the  Canyon.  This  was  done  by  Mr.  Levi  F.  Noble,  of  Au 
burn,  New  York.  He  spent  four  months  here  gathering  field-data 
for  a  thesis  which  gained  for  him  his  degree  of  Doctor  of  Philosophy 

(41) 


from  Yale.  A  copy  of  this  thesis  is  before  me,  and  in  dignity,  in 
conscientious,  painstaking  labor,  and  thorough  study,  it  reveals 
more  knowledge  of  the  Canyon,  as  it  actually  is  in  the  granite  sec 
tion,  than  do  all  the  reports  of  all  the  geologists — Newberry,  Pow 
ell,  Button,  Walcott,  Gilbert  and  the  rest — combined. 

When  the  reader  recalls  the  incidents  related  in  Chapter , 

giving  my  experiences  with  the  Geological  Survey's  map  of  this 
region  (which,  in  future  herein,  I  will  call  Powell's  map),  and 
then  my  slowly  accumulated  knowledge  of  the  absolute  ignorance 
of  Powell,  Button,  and  other  geologists  of  many  of  the  most  im 
portant  features  of  the  granite  section  of  the  Canyon,  can  it  be 
wondered  that,  at  the  same  time,  there  grew  up  in  my  mind  a  se 
rious  distrust  of  the  theories  of  these  gentlemen  in  regard  to  the 
dynamic  history  of  the  Canyon?  Hence  I  propose,  in  this  chapter, 
to  show  what  I  consider  to  be  the  weak  and  untenable  parts  of  these 
theories,  and  then,  layman  though  I  am,  offer  my  own  theory  to 
account  for  the  existence  of  the  Canyon,  which,  according  to  my 
humble  judgment,  more  nearly  conforms  to  the  facts,  as  every  close 
observer  must  concede  they  exist. 

After  personal  investigation  of  over  one  hundred  miles  of  this 
portion  of  the  Canyon,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  record  my  earnest  pro 
test  against  the  erosion  theory  as  being  responsible  for  this  tortu 
ous  breach  in  the  earth's  crust. 

I  shall  attempt  to  show  that  faulting  and  flexing  first  made  the 
erosion  possible,  and  altered  not  only  the  course  of  the  river  itself, 
but,  also,  every  lateral  canyon  and  water-course  within  its  interior 
or  on  the  surface  on  either  side  of  the  granite  section — the  portion 
here  to  be  discussed. 

I  shall  also  endeavor  to  show  that  to  these  agents  also  can  be 
traced  the  origin  of  most  of  the  structural  features  within  the  walls, 
to  which  have  been  given  names  quite  as  inappropriate  and  con 
fusing  as  is  the  theory  advanced  for  their  creation.  But  before  I 
do  so,  however,  let  me  ask  the  reader  to  consider  a  few  of  the  mis 
leading  features  of  Powell's  map — the  survey  (so-called)  of  1881. 

This  map  entirely  reversed  the  drainage  on  the  south  side  of 
the  Canyon.  It  practically  made  the  surface  water  run  up-hill. 
Great  lateral  canyons,  twenty-five  miles  and  more  in  length  and 
two  thousand  or  more  feet  in  depth,  ten  or  twelve  in  number,  are 
shown  on  the  map.  No  such  canyons  can  be  found  and  the  surface 

(42) 


drainage  is  abruptly  away  from  the  Canyon.  Every  traveler  to  the 
Canyon  today  may  note,  as  the  train  nears  the  Canyon,  that  the  last 
few  miles  are  on  an  up-grade,  and  when  one  alights  at  the  terminus 
he  must  climb  a  stairway  before  he  obtains  a  sight  of  the  Canyon 
itself. 

Surface  drainage,  no  doubt,  is  the  first  consideration  in  the 
study  of  any  region,  and  if  the  Colorado  River  began  its  work  on 
the  surface  in  the  early  Tertiary  time  and  since  then  has  succeeded 
in  rasping  out  a  channel  for  itself  four  thousand  five  hundred  feet 
in  depth,  there  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  it  would  have  attracted  the 
surface  drainage,  as  do  all  other  rivers  of  erosion. 

This  certainly  must  have  been  Powell's  excuse  when  the  first 
map  was  made.  This  would  seem  to  be  the  main  support  of  his 
theories  of  corrasion  and  erosion. 

But  the  most  important  agent  to  be  considered,  as  far  as  I 
am  able  to  judge,  was  the  seismic  force  from  the  earth's  interior 
that  was  constantly  elevating  the  entire  plateau  region. 

Button  explains  that  the  uplift  was  about  uniform  with  the 
corrasion  of  the  water  and  thus  maintained  the  declivity — the  in 
ternal  force  acting  very  much  as  acts  the  carriage  in  a  saw-mill  as 
it  presses  the  logs  against  the  saw. 

What  would  naturally  be  the  result  if  this  theory  be  true? 

Would  not  conditions  on  both  sides  of  the  river  be  very  much 
the  same? 

How  do  we  find  them?  There  are  several  marked  differences. 
The  north  wall  of  the  Canyon  is  much  higher  than  the  south  wall 
and  the  conditions  throughout  are  so  dissimilar  that  some  explana 
tion  seems  necessary. 

On  the  north  division  we  find  a  confusing  ramification  of  deep 
canyons  that  seem  to  have  had  their  courses  determined  by  a  well- 
defined  line  of  uplift  from  east  to  west,  thus  forming  a  very  pro 
nounced  Anticlinal. 

The  entire  region  abounds  in  numerous  springs  that  come  to 
light  in  the  top  of  the  cross-bedded  white  Aubury  sandstones. 

The  only  actual  drainage  attraction  of  the  river  in  the  granite 
section  that  is  visible  on  the  surface  is  that  limited  portion  lying 
south  of  this  anticlinal  uplift  referred  to. 

Within  the  walls  we  find  that  the  river  now  apparently  defines 

(43) 


the  south  shore  of  an  ancient  body  of  water,  that  we  are  told  was 
once  an  Algonkian  sea. 

This  most  important  feature  is  quite  apparent  all  the  way  from 
the  mouth  of  the  Little  Colorado  River  to  the  end  of  the  first  sec 
tion  of  the  Granite  Gorge.. 

The  upturned  edges  of  the  Algonkian  strata  have  been  meas 
ured  quite  accurately  and  are  known  to  be  ten  thousand  feet  in 
thickness. 

Another  very  notable  fact  is  that  all  the  important  detached 
masses  of  rock  are  on  the  north  side  of  the  river.  Shiva's  Temple, 
Isis,  Buddha,  Brahma,  Zoroaster,  Walhalla,  Vishnu  and  many  more 
all  overlie  this  Algonkian  sea,  or  are  close  to  it. 

Button  claims  that  these  great  detached  masses  are  due  to  the 
cutting  in  of  the  side  canyons,  etc. 

There  seems,  however,  to  be  a  serious  objection  to  this  theory. 
We  find  that  the  entire  section  has  once  been  a  most  remarkable 
seismic  battle-ground.  It  requires  a  life-time  of  geologic  training 
to  fully  comprehend  the  immensity  of  this  problem  and,  to  any  de 
gree  of  certainty,  figure  out  the  results  to  be  charged  to  this  primary 
body  of  water  of  unknown  dimensions,  lying  within  the  virgin  crust 
of  the  earth.  After  this  early  sea  or  lake  was  filled  by  sedimenta 
tion  and  became  the  foundation  for  thousands  of  feet  of  later  deposit, 
it  is  quite  apparent  that  it  would  be  very  unstable — a  veritable  home 
for  the  accumulation  of  all  sorts  of  elementary  forces  that  finally 
resulted  in  earthquakes  and  wholesale  destruction  on  the  surface, 
the  most  notable  ones  of  the  present  day  being  at  San  Francisco 
and  at  Messina,  Italy. 

It  does  not  require  much  of  a  displacement  of  the  foundation 
of  any  structure  to  utterly  change  the  surrounding  conditions.  In 
either  of  the  cases  named  the  displacement  did  not  amount  to  more 
than  a  few  feet  at  most. 

But  within  the  walls  of  the  Grand  Canyon  one  can  plainly  trace 
the  crust  movements  and  displacements  to  hundreds  and  thousands 
of  feet.  The  great  west  Kaibab  fault  was  no  doubt  from  four  to 
six  thousand  feet,  with  a  restoration,  thousands  of  years  later,  of 
nearly  half  of  that  distance,  carrying  up  all  the  vast  sedimentary 
accumulations  of  that  period  in  an  opposite  direction,  segregating 
the  great  mass  now  known  as  Powell's  Plateau  and  outlining  the 

(44) 


tortuous  course  of  the  river  in  its  northward  trend.  This  fault  is 
described  by  Noble  as  being  nearly  three  hundred  miles  long. 

In  a  word,  this  restless  condition  of  the  basic  rocks  was  con 
stantly  changing  the  contour  of  the  overlying  surface.  The  various 
movements,  though  positive,  were  irregular,  due,  no  doubt,  to  the 
various  agents  engaged  in  the  onslaught  —  internal  force,  lateral 
pressure,  immense  weight  from  overlying  sediment,  etc. 

I  fully  believe  that  a  close  study  of  the  entire  surface  condition 
for  two  or  three  hundred  miles  will  disclose  the  fact  that  where 
now  the  Canyon  is  located  was  once  a  mountain  range  that  had 
been  forced  above  the  surface  of  the  water  by  a  great  revolution  in 
the  earth's  crust. 

Lateral  pressure  would  naturally  hold  it  firmly  in  place  as  long 
as  the  internal  heat  in  the  earth  continued,  but  as  the  heat  subsided 
the  contraction  opened  up  the  thousands  of  fissures  and  displace 
ments  and  gradually  sapped  the  surrounding  bodies  of  water 
through  the  subterranean  channels  thus  formed. 

On  the  southwest  there  is  a  great  syncline  known  as  Cataract 
Basin.  It  extends  from  the  northwest  base  of  the  San  Francisco 
range  on  the  western  slope  to  the  Uinkaret  range  on  the  west.  It 
attracts  the  drainage  of  an  immense  region.  It  has  continued  to 
do  so  for  a  long  period  of  time  and  even  now  it  receives  all  the 
surface  drainage  of  the  south  rim  of  the  Grand  Canyon  from  Grand 
View  to  Bass  Camp.  The  water  that  falls  on  the  roof  of  the  El 
Tovar  Hotel,  unless  artificially  diverted  to  a  local  receptacle,  flows 
away  from  the  Canyon,  enters  this  basin,  and  thence  back  again 
by  a  subterraneous  channel  to  Cataract  Creek  and  the  Colorado 
River  through  Havasa  (Cataract)  Canyon,  a  distance  of  seventy- 
five  miles  or  more. 

This  basin  has  been  the  receptacle  for  vast  bodies  of  rubble 
and  river-wash,  which  are  piled  up  promiscuously  for  miles 
around.  In  some  places  they  are  known  to  be  hundreds  of  feet  in 
thickness.  They  are  strangers  to  anything  in  the  rock  formation 
of  this  locality,  but  many  of  them  belong  to  the  early  Tertiaries, 
and  from  their  rounded  and  polished  condition  no  doubt  have  trav 
eled  hundreds  of  miles.  I  cannot  but  believe  that  the  Colorado 
River  had  a  hand  in  the  work  of  bringing  them  here  long  before 
it  found  its  present  majestic  surroundings. 

But,  as  before  stated,  the  cooling  process  removed  the  lateral 
pressure  at  this  point  and  the  bottom  gradually  fell  out  of  the  lake. 

Thousands  of  sink  holes  mark  the  course  of  a  great  rift  in  the 
now  dry  basin.  If  one  goes  down  into  one  of  these  openings  he 
can  continue  on  down  between  its  irregular  edges,  until  it  opens 
out  into  an  immense  cave,  narrow  in  width,  but  many  miles  long. 
It  does  not  require  much  mental  energy  to  restore  it  to  its  original 
position  and  one  can  readily  see  that  the  sides  of  the  fracture  will 
fit  like  a  broken  bone. 

(45) 


At  the  bottom  of  this  subterranean  channel,  on  the  carbon 
iferous  lime-stones,  Havasu  Creek  is  constantly  rasping  out  a 
channel  for  itself  very  much  the  same  as  is  the  Colorado  River  in 
the  bottom  of  the  Grand  Canyon  at  this  time. 

Look  forward  ten  thousand  years  hence  and  what  will  be  the 
condition  of  the  surface  of  this  fracture?  I  can  look  back  twenty- 
five  years  and  see  only  a  half-dozen  little  sink-holes  along  the 
course  of  the  dry  creek  bed,  while  today  they  have  increased  in 
size  many  fold,  and  dozens  of  new  ones  are  to  be  found  all  along 
through  this  basin.  When  once  all  this  soil  and  sediment  has  been 
carried  down  through  the  fracture  and  the  edges  of  the  walls  are 
exposed,  they  will  rapidly  disintegrate  and  recede  and  another  im 
passable  canyon  will  be  formed. 

The  traditions  of  the  Indians  refer  to  a  time  when  this  lake 
was  in  existence  and  how  it  slowly  died.  You  can  find  scores  of 
ruins  along  the  present  course  of  the  dry  bed,  that  would  seem 
to  indicate  a  living  stream.  The  Indians  say,  "Ground  heap  shake, 
water  go  down." 

It  is  likely  that  when  the  great  volcanic  period  prevailed,  when 
the  San  Francisco  Range  was  formed,  and  also  the  mountains  to 
the  west  of  the  same  origin,  this  lake  was  in  existence  and  its  per 
colating  waters  may  have  helped  to  furnish  some  of  the  energy 
for  the  occasion.  The  lava  flow  to  the  north  may  have  cooled  its 
seething  mass  in  the  same  waters — who  knows? 

Farther  consideration  of  the  surface  drainage  of  this  entire  re 
gion  has  led  me  to  the  conclusion  that  the  attraction  of  the  three 
or  four  great  basins  surrounding  this  portion  of  the  Grand  Can 
yon  have  more  influence  on  the  present  surface  conditions  than  any 
other  factor  extant. 

It  is  possible  that  before  the  great  split  in  the  earth,  where 
now  the  Grand  Canyon  reposes  was  uncovered,  that  this  same 
Cataract  Basin  was  receiving  surface  drainage  from  the  south 
slopes  of  the  Buckskin  Mountains,  (now  the  Kaibab  plateau  on 
the  north  side.) 

The  Grand  Canyon  is  but  an  incident  in  the  great  process  of 
land  sculpture  and  is  not  nearly  as  ancient  as  has  been  supposed. 
It  is  not  the  best  evidence  of  typical  erosion  but  plainly  shows 
dynamic  force  and  shock.  Rocks  of  different  densities  and  porosi 
ties  have  been  cut  sheer  for  hundreds  and  even  thousands  of  feet. 
The  region  is  no  doubt  among  the  older  bodies  of  land  of  this  con 
tinent.  From  its  first  appearance  above  the  ocean  it  has  experi 
enced  many  changes,  subsiding  and  being  uplifted  whenever  con 
ditions  were  favorable. 

The  unstable  bottom  caused  by  the  Algonkian  Sea  may  have 
had  much  to  do  with  it,  as  there  was  a  great  primary  fracture  in 
the  earth's  crust,  and  these  breaks  never  heal ;  and  until  the  earth's 
crust  had  thickened  sufficiently  to  resist  the  internal  forces,  the 

(46) 


up  and  down  see-sawing  or  yielding  doubtless  prevailed,  produc 
ing  numberless  block  faults. 

I  have  said  the  Grand  Canyon  is  merely  an  incident  in  this 
great  cyclopean  exhibit  of  continent-making.  By  this  I  mean  that 
after  the  first  crust  disturbance  to  which  I  have  referred  took 
place,  a  great  subsidence  occurred  and  thousands  upon  thousands 
of  feet  of  sedimentary  rocks  were  laid  down,  completely  covering 
up  the  entire  region  previously  involved. 

Some  geologists  tell  us  that  there  may  have  been  sixteen 
thousand  feet  of  sedimentary  rocks  laid  down  in  the  Grand  Can 
yon  district  at  this  time  of  slow  subsidence  and  deposit.  One  does 
not  have  to  travel  far  from  the  mouth  of  the  Little  Colorado  River 
to  find  Mesozoic  rocks  and  Tertiary  rocks  also,  not  far  to  the 
north. 

But  erosion  must  have  carried  them  away  from  the  immediate 
area  of  the  Canyon  and  it  is  easy  to  determine  which  way  they 
went,  and  it  was  not  through  the  Grand  Canyon,  by  any  means. 
From  this  my  readers  will  infer  that  my  conclusion  is  that  the 
Canyon  is  simply  an  eroded  anticlinal.  That  the  immense  depth 
of  the  Kaibab  is  due  to  early  faulting  in  the  primitive  formations, 
while  that  of  the  eastern  and  western  divisions  may  be  traced  to 
later  displacements  in  the  rock  of  later  origin.  Further,  that  every 
stream  and  side  canyon  is  on  a  fault  line;  that  the  interior  masses 
were  blocked  out  by  fractures;  and  that  all  erosion  that  has  taken 
place  is  an  after  consideration  entirely. 

All  of  southern  and  western  Arizona  and  much  of  Southern 
California  from  the  Needles  to  the  Gulf  of  California  is  made  land, 
from  these  Tertiary  and  Mesozoic  rocks  that  once  covered  south 
eastern  Utah  and  northern  Arizona. 

Millions  of  years  have  been  consumed  in  this  work  and  to  sur 
face  drainage  alone  can  be  traced  the  present  topography  of  the 
country  for  nearly  one  thousand  miles  in  length  by  four  or  five 
hundred  in  width. 

In  conclusion  I  have  only  this  to  add.  My  deductions  are 
based  upon  personal  observation  and  seem  to  afford  me  more  sat 
isfaction  than  I  could  realize  from  the  Powell  theory.  I  care  not 
what  explanation  may  be  presented  hereafter.  If  it  proves  to  be 
more  convincing  than  my  own  I  shall  not  hesitate  to  accept  it. 

I  was  first  to  call  public  attention  to  the  faulty  maps  of  the 
region  and  also  that  of  the  Geological  Survey  and  later  on  to  guide 
the  Director  into  the  pre-cambrian  rocks  of  the  Shinimo  area.  I 
was  first  to  trace  the  great  Muav  fault  from  Shinimo  Creek  to  the 
river  near  Hermet  Creek,  and  to  note  that  the  trend  of  these  dis 
placements  corresponded  with  the  general  course  of  the  river 
through  the  granite  section,  which  is  northwest  by  southeast. 

I  have  spent  the  best  portion  of  my  life  in  building  roads  and 
trails  and  making  the  region  accessible.  I  was  the  first  to  interest 

(47) 


the  public  in  a  railroad  and  procured  the  first  exemption,  under 
the  laws  of  Arizona,  from  taxation.  I  was  in  charge  of  the  first 
survey;  discovered  the  fluxing  ores  at  Anita  that  eventually  deter 
mined  the  building  of  the  railway.  For  years  I  was  considered 
worthy  of  consideration  in  various  ways  by  the  railway  and  trans 
portation  companies  as  a  medium  for  advertising  the  Canyon 
through  my  stage  line.  But  now  a  new  era  has  dawned  and  I  may 
be  classed  as  an  undesirable  citizen.  I  am  told  that  I  must  not 
interfere  in  any  way  with  the  wholesale  appropriation  by  the  Santa 
Fe  railway  company  and  Fred  Harvey  of  the  entire  Grand  Can 
yon  and  all  the  business  that  may  come  therefrom.  The  decree 
has  gone  forth  and  I  am  to  share  the  fate  of  Cameron,  Page,  Berry, 
Smith,  et.  al.,  all  of  whom  have  been  crowded  to  the  wall  by  these 
grasping  corporations.  The  reason  is  plain.  I  have  mines  of  Cop 
per  and  Asbestos,  and  good  ones.  These  will  demand  railroads; 
competition  cuts  down  fares  and  the  general  public  gets  the  benefit. 
Furthermore,  as  an  independent  stage-owner,  trail-owner,  and 
camp-hotel  proprietor  I  am  able  to  care  for  tourists  and  thus  earn 
some  small  portion  of  their  patronage.  This  small  sum,  paltry  in 
its  insignificance,  compared  with  what  the  railway  and  Fred  Har 
vey  receive,  is  yet  coveteously  regarded  by  these  two  institutions, 
and  if  they  can  drive  me  out  by  petty  tyranny,  harassing  treat 
ment,  perversions  of  truth,  refusal  to  give  tourists  information  who 
ask  about  my  Camp  and  trails,  etc.,  I  am  to  be  driven  out,  so  that 
henceforth  no  one  can  see  any  part  of  the  Grand  Canyon  without 
paying  into  their  coffers  any  tribute  they  may  demand. 


r  HIS  is  the  last  of  the 
Rhymes  and  Jingles, 
etc.,  written  by  William 
WallaceBass,  the  Grand 
Canyon  Guide,  and  done 
into  a  book  by  the  Arroyo 
Guild,  an  association  of 
expert  workers  in  the  ap 
plied  arts,  and  printed 
at  their  Press,  in  their 
Guild  Hall,  201  Avenue 
Sixty  -  six  (Garvanza), 
LosAngeles,  California, 
in  the  month  of  October, 
1909. 


(48) 


You  have  not  seen  the 

Grand  Canyon 

to  good  advantage 
unless  you  see  the 

WESTERN    SECTION 

Including  Bass  Camp,  Havasupai  Point,  Bass  Cable  Crossing, 
Powell  Plateau,  Point  Sublime,  Shinumo  Gardens,  Havasupai 
Canyon,  Cataracts,  and  Indian  Village. 


RATES  AT  BASS'S 

Stage  from  El  Tovar  to  Hopi  and  Yavapai  Points,  $1.00  each. 

Stage  from  Bass  Station  or  El  Tovar  to  Grand  View,  stopping 
at  Thor's  Hammer  and  Grand  View  Point,  $3.00  round  trip. 

Good  accommodations  at  Bass  Station,  $3.00  per  day. 

Stage  from  El  Tovar  or  Bass  Station  to  Bass  Camp  (25  miles), 
$5.00  round  trip.  Liberal  reduction  to  parties. 

Bass's  is  the  natural  outfitting  point  for  the  Western  Section 
of  the  Grand  Canyon,  the  Cable  Crossing,  Powell  and  Kaibab 
Plateaus,  Point  Sublime  on  the  North  Rim,  and  the  Havasupai 
Canyon,  Villages  and  Waterfalls. 

Complete  outfits,  saddle  and  pack  animals  and  experienced 
guides  at  reasonable  rates. 

Those  who  desire  a  prolonged  visit  in  the  heart  of  the  Canyon 
may  camp  at  Shinumo  Gardens  on  Shinumo  Creek,  where  bathing 
and  fishing  can  be  enjoyed  and  fresh  fruit  and  vegetables  may  be 
had  in  season. 

For  full  particulars  do  not  hesitate  to  write  to  me.  I  am  always 
ready  to  handle  large  or  small  parties  on  short  notice.  Twenty-five 
years'  experience. 

W.      W.      BASS 
Bass  Station  and  Bass  Camp,  Grand  Canyon,  Arizona. 


UNIVEKSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRAEY, 
BERKELEY 

THIS  BOOK  IS  DUE  ON  THE  LAST  DATE 
STAMPED  BELOW 

Books  not  returned  on  time  are  subject  to  a  fine  of 
50c  per  volume  after  the  third  day  overdue,  increasing 
to  $1.00  per  volume  after  the  sixth  day.  Books  not  in 
demand  may  be  renewed  if  application  is  made  before 
expiration  of  loan  period. 


' 


iOHi-7,'27 


sass. 


i 


14 


los. 


Bosons 


19099'4 


-ARY 


